The King's Fool
by Pagliacci
Summary: An unusual perspective on certain things. Life at the court of UruBaen through the eyes of Galbatorix’s jester.
1. When the King Calls

DISCLAIMER: The Inheritance Trilogy isn't mine, thank the gods.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I didn't plan on actually writing this story down, for many reason's: The least of which being the fact that I'm one of the dreaded "Antis" (and no, I will not get into an argument with anyone, so don't bother), but perhaps it's that very fact that has given me the vantage point to write about thing's differently from many fans. Go figure, point is, the story's partially done (who knows, if I'll actually finish it) and now happily polluting the net. Should you feel like reviewing it, I'd be very happy.

CHAPTER 1- WHEN THE KING CALLS

A misty fall morning had rolled over to an equally misty afternoon. A traveller entering the city of Uru'Baen could only see the blurry outline of the gigantic castle that towered over the great city. Once the castle had been a regular fortress, one badly in need on repair, but now it had grown to be a focal point of a kingdom.

On a clear day, a person standing in any of the castle's windows could see a vast landscape before his eyes, but today everything was covered by soft vapour.

A solitary figure sat on a windowsill in the main part of the castle. His eyes alternated between the world outside and the lute that he held in his hands. The apparently young man was dressed in loose and colourful robes and a large hat decorated with golden bells.

The man's concentration was broken when a pageboy ran into the hall he was occupying and called for him.

"Lord Frilnim, His Majesty requests your company in the throne room."

Frilnim turned his large eyes on the boy. "What for?"

"He didn't say. But I think you should go there quick, sir." The boy made a quick bow and dashed out of the room.

Frilnim stood up, glancing out of the window one last time. He had been looking forward to spending some time alone, but it would seem that he would have to postpone writing his latest song. Slinging his lute over his shoulder, his walked out of the room and headed for the throne room.

The fact that he had been called to the throne room suggested to Frilnim that a meeting was either taking place or had just ended. As the jester, Frilnim was rarely invited to royal meetings, but that did not mean that he was not abreast to the major events and decisions made in them.

Walking through a series of hallways, Frilnim finally came to the large doors leading to the throne in the very heart of the castle.

A pair of guards stood by the doors. When they saw Frilnim coming, they did a half nod half bow and opened the doors to let him in. As the most important room of the castle, responsible for portraying the power of the king, the throne room was worthy of its position. The large hall was divided into three sections by two rows of columns. Tall windows on either long wall made sure that any natural light could illuminate the space and the white surfaces in turn reflected the light and magnified its effects. The columns rose up into a set of small domes in the ceiling in all three sections of the hall, giving the throne room an even further effect of range.

In the back of the throne room was the throne itself, set on top of a podium of worn marble. On the throne sat King Galbatorix. Though currently he looked to be slumping over the seat rather than actually sitting.

Frilnim quickly made sure there was no one else in the hall, before crossing over the space that was between them. Had there been other people around, Frilnim would have been pressed to act more carefully. After all, a jester should be careful of overstepping the bounds of his position too much.

Frilnim walked up the podium and knelt beside Galbatorix. This was no gesture of servitude, but an attempt on his side to get a better view of the king's face.

Sighing warily, Galbatorix ran his hand through his short hair, giving Frilnim a meaningful look.

As far as humans went, Galbatorix looked to be in his thirties, or in his twenties on a good day. However worry had a way of making him appear as old as he truly was.

"You needed to see me," Frilnim said, his voice soft.

"Yes." Galbatorix nodded, pulling himself up slightly.

"Bad news?"

"Nothing really new, just complications of old news."

"Are they still fighting over the job of head advisor ?" Frilnim asked knowingly.

Since the loss of the blue egg, things had been slowly deteriorating in the court. First there were suspicions as to who was responsible for letting the Varden's spies to steal the egg. Then came the news that the egg had hatched and the fact that no one could find the newly revealed rider. Next the rider and his dragon had joined the Varden. And then the truly bad blow, Durza's death.

With Durza and his natural successors, the Twins, all dead, the post of the king's head advisor was up for grabs and every notable military commander and magic user was looking to take over the post.

"Ananrsir stepped down from the competition. I think he was pressured by the others."

Frilnim sat down next to the throne. "Well, I for one never saw him as a real contender. And if he can't some pressure from five other men, he can't be ready for the pressure of being the head advisor."

" True. But I have a feeling someone may have been threatening him or his family." Galbatorix said. "I can hardly blame him pulling out before anything bad happened."

Frilnim smiled, Galbatorix seemed to have developed a great deal of compassion in things related to families. Bit, with everything going on, it was not all that surprising.

"So, you're left with five choices… Though I think Hodnusa wouldn't be that good of an advisor, he has no determination, and he's so longwinded."

Galbatorix snorted, suppressing his laughter, "a grave fault in someone who's essentially a bureaucrat with a sword. What do you think about Valsonin?"

"He has experience in both magic and battle, but he's too ambitious. He practically glows with it. In any case, none of the five can hold a candle to Durza, even with all his shortcomings."

While Frilnim and Durza were far from friends, they still shared a loyalty towards Galbatorix. Frilnim had next to no talent in magic, and Durza was terrible company, so their duties never overlapped and as such the two of them got along.

"That's true," Galbatorix said. "He had courage to admits his limits and attempt to overcome them. Maybe that's why he fought the boy and was killed."

Frilnim shrugged, he could never quite decipher the thought process of the Shade. "I guess you don't need me to tell who would make a fitting second in command, if things were a little different."

The king burrowed his brow. "If thing were different. Murtagh… How could I have missed it?"

Frilnim glanced at Galbatorix, maybe he should not have brought up the subject of Murtagh. After running away from the court, something had happened to Morzan's son, he was so different now.

"He'll come around," Frilnim assured. "He can't blame you for what his father did to him. Everyone, including him, knows that you dote on the boy. Eventually Murtagh will see that."

"I hope so. Until the matter of my advisor is settled, things are going to be restless. If ever, now the rebels might try to strike the court. It's no longer safe outside." Galbatorix looked at Frilnim.

Frilnim recoiled, knowing the real message behind the king's words. "What? But there's a travelling theatre coming to the city. I was looking forward to it."

"We can invite the troupe to perform at the castle, if they are deemed safe."

Frilnim huffed and walked to the closest window. "It's not just that. I want to go outside once in a while. Where the people could care less about the petty things that go on around here."

Galbatorix stood up and moved in front of the jester. "I'm sorry for causing you pain. And I know it's not just the theatre or the people you want to see out there. You long for the forest."

"Isn't it funny." Frilnim frowned and brushed aside his hair, revealing a pointed ear. "I'm everything an elf shouldn't be, but I can't help but feel the wild call me."

By human standards, Frilnim looked like a beautiful youth, but by elf standards he was ordinary. Though, Frilnim remarked to himself, he had acquired, not by his own accord, features that made him even less attractive for elven eyes.

Most striking of these features were three vertical scars that ran over his lips. Should anyone be bold enough to ask how he had gotten the scars, Frilnim would reply it was because of him having a big mouth. And it was true.

"Who ever said you should be like other elves?" Galbatorix smiled and took a hold of Frilnim's hands. "I doubt we'd be friends, if you were one."

"Good to know someone appreciates my attempt at individuality," Frilnim laughed.

"I for one appreciate it. And even more I appreciate your presence in my life," emotion seeped through Galbatorix voice as he held both Frilnim's hands and his gaze.

"I won't even mind, if you send a ra'zac out there with me."

"Frilnim, I've lost too many friends in my life, and I don't want to loose too. Please, try to abide with my request, until the problem passes. I promise to make it up to you some how."

"I thought it was my job to assure you to be patient and not worry," Frilnim said, giving his friend's hands a light squeeze.

Galbatorix chuckled. "After this talk, I expect things to return to that."


	2. Traitor to a Race

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Lo and behold, I've managed to churn out a second chapter. Ooh, so much angst, it's almost funny. Whether or not I'll write down more chapters is still up in the air, we shall see…

Also, it should be noted that the short song Frilnim sings in the flashback is the second verse of song by John Dowland called "Woeful Heart". If you're not familiar with Dowland, then you are missing out on great Elizabethan songs. The song Frilnim's working on in the beginning is by me, which you can clearly see from the crappy quality.

CHAPTER 2- TRAITOR TO A RACE

Frilnim was walking down a corridor, headed for the castle's north wing. While he had left the throne room feeling well, the elf had soon found himself fuming at being stuck in the castle for an undetermined amount of time. That frustration soon led to other things that were wrong in the world and Frilnim needed someone to talk to.

As he continued his walk, he strummed the strings of his lute, thinking he might as well attempt to finish his new song.

_"If I were a bird in the sky,_

_I know not where I would fly._

_I need not these wings…"_

Frilnim shook his head, the lyrics did not work. Maybe he should try something a little more light-hearted. Then again, he had not felt like making jokes as of late.

But it was precisely times like this that called for jokes and merry songs. What kind of a jester would he be, if he couldn't incite some laughter in people?

Just then a dark shape stalked past Frilnim, pumping into him. The elf's hat fell to the floor and he turned to the person, ready to give them a masterfully comical glare. However, when Frilnim saw who it was, his glare disappeared.

"Murtagh, where are you going in such a hurry?" Frilnim asked, trying to sound casual.

The youth looked at him distastefully. "Somewhere else."

"You know," Frilnim chuckled as he picked up his hat. "I've been to Somewhere Else and there's not much to see there. The locals aren't nice either."

"Shut up. I don't feel like listening to your jokes," Murtagh snapped.

"That's when you need jokes the most." Frilnim smiled. "Besides, I remember a certain little boy who used to love my jokes."

"Well he's gone!" Murtagh leaned close to Frilnim, his eyes blazing. "I couldn't care less about Galbatorix's pet elf has to say to me, so shove off traitor!"

With that Murtagh turned around and marched down the corridor.

Frilnim stood there, clutching his hat to his chest. He was no stranger to hearing insults, but coming from someone who he had once seen as a friend they still hurt. Frilnim leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. How had it come to this?

(A 100 years ago, southwest border of Du Weldenvarden)

Frilnim, his worn and ragged clothes flapping in the wind, gripped the bark of a large pine for support. He had been walking or running for what felt like days and his injuries had not made things any better. But he had to get out of the woods, unless he wanted to turn out worse than he already was.

Frilnim looked behind him. Were the others still following him, or had they decided that they had done enough?

He looked back into the forest, knowing it would the last time he would be standing inside the woods of Du Weldenvarden. Once he stepped out into the fields waiting outside, he could never return.

A sharp pain in the elf's back, and the taste of blood in his mouth, told him that there was no point in trying to return. The others had made it abundantly clear.

Frilnim never had any talent for magic or combat, but he possessed a voice and a wit that always got him into trouble, but also got him out of them. A few choice words, a beautiful song, those were his weapons, but this time they had failed him.

He had gone over some invisible line this time. Defending the actions of a rebel, responsible for killing a few elven dragon riders, was apparently deemed as treason.

Why was it so wrong? Frilnim wondered for the umpteenth time since the sudden trial and judgement. What was wrong with looking at things differently? And since when had elves descended into acts of violence against each other?

Frilnim's hands went to his mouth, where the three cuts were still spilling the odd drop of blood down his chin or into his mouth. Had they thought that that would have silenced him? Well, maybe it would have, if they had stopped there. But they had not. Eventually he had screamed, the stitches had torn and his lips were shredded.

Carefully, but determined to vent his anger at his predicament, Frilnim graced the trees of Du Weldenvarden with his parting song.

_"Fly, my breast, leave me forsaken._

_Wherein grief his seat hath taken_

_all his arrows through me darting._

_Thou mayst live by her sunshining_

_I shall suffer no more pining_

_by thy loss than by her parting. "_

He turned and walked out of the shades and pulled the hood of his cape over his head.

There was a small village near the woods and Frilnim was desperate for some food. He could care less what the humans used in their foods, he would be glad to eat it. In his haste to leave Ellesmera, Frilnim had only managed to take a small sum of money, but it should have been enough for a meal and some things.

Just what the elf would do now was an open question. He could always try his hand at being a minstrel, if people would not be too put off by his appearance. Other than that, he would have to learn a profession.

As he entered the village, Frilnim could sense agitation in the people around him. It was not an obvious tension, but rather something just beneath the surface, waiting to come out.

Galbatorix's undeniably shocking actions must be affecting even remote places such as this, Frilnim mused.

Frilnim was so lost in his own head, that he did not notice a burly man walking towards him. The man for his own part had not noticed the slight figure coming towards him, and soon both Frilnim and the man were laying on the ground after colliding into each other.

"Watch where you're going, boy," the man said, rubbing his posterior as he stood up.

"I'm sorry," Frilnim said quickly.

"No harm done." The man extended his arm and pulled Frilnim to his feet.

In the sudden upwards move, a gust of wind got under the elf's hood and pushed it off. At the sight of Frilnim's pointed ears, the man released his grip and stepped back.

"You!" He pointed an accusing finger at Frilnim. "Beast-eared forest demon!"

Before he could react, Frilnim was pushed into the mud by several onlookers. Shouts and kicks rained in all around him. From the scattered words he could catch between the pain and dirt, the elf could discern that the villagers were upset that the elves were not doing anything about Galbatorix.

Breathless, Frilnim looked up from the mud desperately searching for help. The corners of his vision were blurring and a sickening feeling of falling down was taking over his brain. Before everything went dark, he could hear a sudden whoosh, people screaming in panic and a dark shape coming descend from the sky.

Climbing up from the debts of unconsciousness, the first thing Frilnim was aware of was a throbbing pain throughout his entire body. He sat up in alarm and immediately doubled over in pain. The elf's torso felt like it was on fire.

"Take it easy. Doesn't do one much good to move around with injured ribs," a gentle, deep voice said.

Warily Frilnim turned his head to see a tall human standing over him. The man was dressed in a partial armour and looked like he had not had a good bath in a long while. His dark eyes regarded the elf with a mixture of bemusement and concern.

"It's alright, you're safe here." The man sat down next to Frilnim, smiling at the surprised elf.

"You… You saved me. Why?" Frilnim moved his hand over his chest and stomach, noting the bandages that ran all over his body.

"Well, someone had to intervene, it was hardly a fair fight from the look of it. Besides, I can't help but feel at least partially responsible for some people's aggression towards your kind."

"But-"

The man cut Frilnim off, "what's your name, friend?"

"Uh," Frilnim faltered. "I'm Frilnim."

The man smiled again, placing his hand over his heart. "Nice to meet you Frilnim. My name is Galbatorix."

Frilnim suppressed a gasp. This was Galbatorix? The rebellious rider whom he had defended? The one who had the courage to fight against his own order and dream of something better?

"I see you've heard of me," Galbatorix said. "I'll understand, if you wish to leave. I and the others will not harm you. Though, I would like to offer to heal you as a way of apologising for causing you so much trouble."

Frilnim looked around, for the first time taking note of his surroundings. He and Galbatorix were sitting in a small grove of trees. Further away, were a number of large fires with people sitting around them and even further away, out in the open field beyond the grove, Frilnim could see the shapes of several dragons resting as the sun set down behind their backs.

"I'll leave you now to consider my offer. You are free to leave whenever you feel like it." Galbatorix made to stand up.

Frilnim reached out and took a hold of the rider's sleeve, still too bewildered to speak. "No! I…"

"Yes?"

"I would be more than grateful, if you would heal me."

Galbatorix smiled again. Frilnim decided that he liked the smile, it was warm and genuine. He could see why people were ready to follow this rider, he was very charismatic.

"Good. Now, I have to warn you, this might be a little painful."

Galbatorix moved some the bandages on Frilnim's chest aside and ran his calloused hand over the bruises and muttered a few words. Frilnim's breath caught in his throat as a tight sensation came over his chest. But soon the sensation was gone, and so was the pain around his chest and stomach.

"Better?" Galbatorix asked and moved behind Frilnim.

"Yes. Thank you." Frilnim slowly sat up.

"No need to thank me." Galbatorix removed the remaining bandages, brushed aside Frilnim's matted hair and looked down at the varied cuts on the elf's back. "I should be apologising to you."

Frilnim turned his head slightly. "You have nothing to apologise for. The humans acted on their accord."

"I'm not talking about the humans."

Frilnim clenched his hands into fists.

"I heard a rumour, that the an elf in Ellesmera had spoken out on my behalf. And for his troubles, he was attacked and banished. I didn't think I would ever be lucky enough to find that elf and thank him, and tell him that I'm sorry for all the pain I caused him."

Frilnim's eyes burned with tears that wanted to break out, but he held them back. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't my kind the way they are."

Galbatorix was done closing the wounds on Frilnim's back and he shifted to sit next to the elf. He reached over towards his face, but out of instinct Frilnim pulled back.

Galbatorix, undaunted, placed his hand on the side of Frilnim's head. "Then I'm glad you're not like them. I would be honoured to have someone like you as a friend."

Without uttering a single spell, Galbatorix ran his thumb over the cuts on Frilnim's mouth and closed them.

"There would be nothing I'd want more than to have you call me your friend," Frilnim said, holding his own hand over Galbatorix's.

That wonderful smile spread over Galbatorix's face again and it was settled.

Frilnim looked down at his hat. It had not been long since their first meeting that Galbatorix had brought him a hat much like it. It had been long and made of soft, green fabric, with three golden bells at the ends. Originally, Galbatorix had meant it as a joke, saying that if he ever became a king, he would make Frilnim his jester, his opposite and equal.

In the end Galbatorix had kept that word and the rebel rider and the elf traitor formed a friendship that had lasted through war and peace.

Frilnim glanced to the direction Murtagh had went and smirked. The youth had much to learn of who his friends really were, and now, as a dragon rider, he had all the time in the world.


	3. The Best Intentions?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, I've made this far. Huzzah for that! And I haven't been flamed yet- Huzzah again!

Though there's one thing, I'm sort of wrestling with. I've written (another) flashback chapter and I'm not sure whether or not I should post it. It doesn't really add much to the story and fans Arya are sure to be offended by the way she's portrayed in it. So, what do you think, should I post the chapter or just forget it and move on?

CHAPTER 3- THE BEST INTENTIONS?

Frilnim had arrived to the north wing of the castle. The entire wing was constructed to accommodate Galbatorix's dragon, Shruikan and any other dragons that might be occupying the castle. Keeping in mind the potential size that the dragon might reach as time went by, the north wing looked more like a series of gigantic caverns than a part of a royal castle.

Despite its forbidding appearance, Frilnim liked the north wing. For one thing, it had an opening built high to the top of one of outer caverns, meant to be used as an entrance for Shruikan, when the great black dragon felt like stretching his wings. And the opening, shaped to resemble the mouth of a cave, had a wonderful view of the mountains that neighboured the castle from the north.

Frilnim looked at the walls of the corridor he was walking along on his way to the outer cavern. The walls were lined with long tapestries depicting dragons. Fourteen dragons were weaved with more size and detail than the rest. They were Shruikan and the Forsworn dragons, many of whom had not lived to see the dragon riders defeated and the north wing built. Had they made it that far, maybe things would have been different and people would not be so rash to judge the king and his followers.

There were many horrible rumours going around about Galbatorix. Some were the products of misunderstanding, and some were outright lies.

Frilnim had heard his share of rumours, and most of them simply made him laugh. Even the majority of Uru'Baen's residents knew that the stories were utter nonsense, but there were people elsewhere who were willing to believe such things.

The elf finally entered the outer cavern and saw a house sized mass of gleaming, black scales and golden spikes curled up on the floor.

"Shruikan," Frilnim called out, not sure whether the dragon was asleep or not.

The dragon breathed heavily and his head turned towards the elf. _"Ah, Frilnim. You're here to talk about Galbatorix?"_

"It's that obvious?"

Shruikan smiled fondly. _"I can feel his concern. When he's concerned, you have a way of seeking me out instead of him."_

"You know him better than I do. And I feel comfortable talking about him with you."

One of the more painful rumours, if not the most painful, claimed that Galbatorix had forced Shruikan into bonding with him. When they had heard about this claim, both rider and dragon had been outraged. Frilnim had avoided going near either for a few days after that, for fear that they would have a random outburst of anger and do something foolish.

As far as anyone knew, it was impossible to force a bond with a dragon. That claim had been the worst personal insult toward Shruikan's dignity. The black dragon, when he was still a hatchling, had felt Galbatorix's pain and been drawn to him. He had not been happy with his destined rider, a thoroughly petulant person, and had wished to forsake him for Galbatorix. To make a new bond possible, Shruikan's first rider had to be killed, an act which, while unfortunate, was necessary. It had been quick, from what Shruikan had personally told Frilnim, a sharp sting and then it was over.

"I think he's worrying too much."

"_Well," _Shruikan said and crossed his front legs casually. _"With all of the recent events, he has a lot on his mind."_

"Politics, right?" Frilnim smirked. "I've never liked the way people crave power and influence like some kind of drug."

"_I suppose you've never felt that craving?" _Shruikan's eyes sparkled cunningly.

"You got me there. But I've never let it control me."

"_People have a desire to be secure and happy. Many of them believe they can achieve it through the pursuit of power. I'm sure, if one were to look at the true motivations of people in high positions, they would find that those people are really just looking to be rid of their own worries."_

"You're a deeper thinker than me, Shruikan. I used to think my view of the world was wide before I met you."

"_Well, until recently I've spent most of my time sitting here and contemplating the world. Though, now I find myself occupied by other matters." _Shruikan nudged his head towards the corridor.

"How is Thorn doing? Better than Murtagh, I hope."

"_He's doing far better, though he does fear for the wellbeing of the young man." _Shruikan turned his head to the sunlight that poured through the opening in the wall. _"It's strange, he is so much like Silfranni…"_

Frilnim's eyes widened at the mention of Morzan's dragon. "Do you think he could be her child?"

Shruikan nodded. _"It's a possibility. She told me once that she had mated and produced a few eggs, though she wasn't aware of what'd happened to them. I've never been a fatalist myself, but it would uncanny that Silfranni's son would bond with the son of her rider."_

"If the Varden ever made that connection, they would have something to rejoice about. I've already heard things from Surda about how they're mocking Murtagh for being like his father."

"_Then they know neither Murtagh or Morzan. The only things they share is blood."_

Frilnim perched his lips. "When did the Varden ever let truth stand in their way? The way they look at the whole court, you'd think we're all demons bent on ruining the world. Meanwhile they do things just as evil as any other person fighting for control."

"_I'm sure the people in the Varden feel like their mission is justified," _Shruikan said, his voice expressing an admirable amount of understanding.

Frilnim shook his head. "How is it justified? They attacked royal employees, they're spreading rumours and killing people! What kind of warped mind could think of those as justified acts?"

"_I think." _Shruikan inclined his head in a gesture to calm the elf down. _"That they believe they could make things better."_

"Idiots!" Frilnim spat out. "What to they think would happen, if they actually…"

He could not finish the sentence, the thought alone gripped at his heart and beckoned tears into his eyes.

He sighed, to release the pressure building inside of him. "Do they think everything will be marvellous and perfect without Galbatorix around? Are they honestly that daft?"

"_Time has a way of making things seem different than what they truly were once."_

"I guess I can't blame the shortlives for thinking that the Dragon Riders were good and just ruler, who never made stupid choices or acted selfishly. "

"_Most of the Varden weren't born at the time, and those who were have their own reasons for wanting to be rid of us. "_

Frilnim sat down next to Shruikan's hulking side. "It was a small miracle that the riders lasted as long as they did. By the time I was born, they were down to a loose bunch of elves and humans bickering with each other and trying to desperately keep the world from falling to chaos."

Shruikan chuckled, _"they'd definitely lost whatever glory they once had. Why do you think I was hatched to such a lousy rider before I found Galbatorix?"_

"The same reason I was born to a race of self-serving shut-ins." A fry smile pulled at Frilnim's lips. "The world's never been perfect and never will be. No matter what some rebels think."

"_Had the riders truly been as strong as they lead on, the forsworn could never have defeated them."_

"I bet that never crossed the Varden's collective mind. Or that maybe their illustrious founder was just driven by a mad sorrow like the one pulled you to Galbatorix."

"_Brom?" _Shruikan scraped at the smooth stone of the cavern's floor._ "Whatever he thought, he and Galbatorix were not that different. Had his personal vendetta against Morzan not clouded his judgement, maybe we wouldn't have the Varden to deal with now."_

"The only thing stopping me from wiping the floor with his ideals is respect for the dead."

"_Judging from your amount of frustration, I'd say this calls for jokes pointed at our rebel friends. When was the last time you poked fun at them?"_

"Not since before the last battle. Do you think the timings right?" Frilnim looked at Shruikan, his head tilted to side.

"_I think it's a perfect time. Try something out."_

"Alright." Frilnim stood up, faced Shruikan and cleared his throat. "So, it seems like the Varden have made Ajihad's daughter into their new leader. Now, correct me if wrong, but aren't the Varden all about democracy? I for one heard nothing of a vote inside the Varden to elect their new leader. Has anyone heard of polling results coming in from the Varden? No? Well, maybe they should consider renaming themselves the Wards of Hypocrisy!"

Shruikan chortled. _"Good, very biting. Have you got anything else?"_

"Lets try this… The king of Surda is secretly supporting the Varden, and that no secret. But what really catches my eye is that he tries to hide his support of the Varden, while openly supporting about half dozen mistresses."

The dragon shook his head and laughed. _"Oh, that is so true!"_

"Have you seen the women he sleeps with?" Frilnim laughed. "Makes one think the king's blind. I guess there's no counting for lack of taste."

Eventually Shruikan's laughter died down and he looked at Frilnim, his golden eyes full of warmth. _"This is what Galbatorix needs now, for you to be you. This thing will pass, like all of the other hard times we've lived through."_

"I just wish I could do more and tell jokes and sing songs. " Frilnim shrugged.

"_Never underestimate the power of words. Besides, deep down within him, Galbatorix knows your heart, he's known since you first met. You can't have the same bond as he and I have, but you're still joined."_


	4. From the Depths

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, in the lack of better judgement, I decided to post this flashback-chapter while I write away at the next chapter (which actually has some plot in it). Actually, I cut a bunch of stuff out of this chapter in order to get it over with faster, that's how pointless it all is.

CHAPTER 4- FROM THE DEPTHS

(Gil'ead, approximately a year ago)

The carriage jolted to a halt and Frilnim peered through the window at the grey courtyard outside. Clouds had gathered in the sky above, a perfect mirror of his current emotions.

Why had Galbatorix sent him here? And why had he agreed to go? Frilnim closed his eyes and invoked what nerve he possessed to emerge and hide his anxiety.

"My lord, are you feeling well?" a senior footman, designated to be the elf's retainer during his journey, asked. "You have appeared quite uneasy since we left Uru-Baen."

"I'm fine, I just don't like travelling."

"If you say so, sir."

A royal guardsman, one of six that had been accompanying Frilnim's carriage, opened the door and Frilnim stepped out. He was greeted by Durza and a group of the guards that worked at the fortress, a mixture of men and urgals.

The Shade smiled, though in manner which suggested well controlled annoyance. "So, you made it through the wilderness without being eaten by wolves."

"Galbatorix isn't worried about wolves." Frilnim looked back at his guards.

"Let it not be said that he doesn't value your safety," Durza said.

A small smile came the elf's face. Despite everything going on inside his mind, the almost friendly way in which he and Durza would trade light insults was comforting.

"Not everyone has a face scary enough to drive away would be attackers."

"You flatter me." Durza revealed his sharp teeth in a grin. "Maybe we can continue this exchange indoors? I think it will rain soon, and I'd hate to explain to the king how you got a cold while visiting Gil'ead."

Two of Durza's human guards led the Shade and the elf inside the castle, while two of the guard accompanying Frilnim followed behind them.

"How long are planning on staying? Glabatorix's message didn't specify that." Durza asked while walking alongside Frilnim.

"If it was up to me, we'd be gone today. But the men and horses need their rest, and I wouldn't say no to sleeping in a bed tonight, if you have any in this place."

Durza laughed. "We do have them in fact. Though I wouldn't guarantee they're as cosy as the ones in the capital. After all, I'm not in the habit of hopping from one bed to another."

Frilnim pouted. "I haven't changed beds in years. And you think every elf is a lecherous leaf-smoker, you'd be wrong."

"Shame," Durza said as they entered a narrow corridor leading to a row of cells. "I'm sure there would many clamouring to share sheets with elves. Humans are funny that way, never happy with what they've got."

Frilnim, his mind returning to more current things, noticed the edge in the Shade's voice. "Have your guard being trying to do something to her?"

"Princess Arya?" Durza nodded. "I think so. Even in her current state, she can be appetising."

Frilnim made a small noise. "They… They haven't…"

"Why should you care?" Durza stopped at the end of the corridor, in front of a heavy door.

"Maybe living in this place has made you loose all humanity, but I for one wouldn't tolerate such acts. "

"Calm down, elf. I don't think they've actually succeeded in their attempts. If they had, I would punish them. We do have rules, even in this place." Durza indicated the door. "She's in here."

Frilnim hesitated, his mind reeling. He could not turn back now, Galbatorix would not like for him to return home a failure. But confronting old issues like this, in these surroundings, with her, it was not something Frilnim wanted to do.

"She won't be able to harm me?"

"She's chained, and even if she wasn't, I'm sure she's too weak to attack you physically." Durza gave Frilnim a sideways glance. "I'm tempted to let her loose, so she could lead me to the Varden. Either that or kill her. But should you find out any new information about the Varden, I'd be grateful."

"That would be a first, in more than one way," Frilnim said.

"Fine." Durza shrugged. "Just thought I ought to let you know."

"Thanks."

Durza turned around. "My men will be outside at all times. Just call for them when you want out. Good luck."

Frilnim looked to the four men standing around him. The grimfaced guards of Durza eyes him critically, knowing how out of place the elf looked. Both of the two guards that had Frilnim from the envoy gave him encouraging nods.

The older one of the guards inclined his head. "Sir, we will be out here waiting for you. You are safe, I assure you."

Frilnim nodded and smiled. Was his fear that evident?

One of Durza's guards moved next to the door and opened the lock.

Frilnim closed his eyes, took a long breath and stepped in. For a moment he stood there, has back to the door while it closed behind him with a loud, definitive clank.

Once his heartbeats had steadied, Frilnim opened his eyes. On the opposite wall, her wrists shackled in loose chains, sat Arya. Her clothes were torn and her body was covered in dirt, bruises and cuts, yet her face held the very essence of pride and defiance. Even in this sorry state and this dark place, she could not hide her lineage.

Arya looked up and her eyes narrowed at the sight of Frilnim. "Traitor."

"Princess." Frilnim bowed, out of habit rather than respect.

"You remain alive and in Galbatorix's favour, I see." Arya smiled coldly. "Did he send you here to gloat, or he is insane enough to think you can make me talk?"

"I don't think it makes much difference whether or not you talk at this point. Galbatorix sent me to reach a closure."

"How? Do you think I'll beg for your forgiveness? Beg for you to save me from a painful death?"

"No. I believe Durza has his sights set on killing you and I wouldn't want to be in his way."

"Still a coward," Arya chuckled. "Then again, you have no reason to defend me. Even if you tried, I'd deny help from someone like you."

"Coward?" Frilnim cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe I'm a coward because the only time I did anything brave, things turned out bad for me."

"Obviously not too bad. Or do you still long for Ellesmera and the embrace of my people?"

"If I ever lapse into pining for the past, all I have to do is remember what my final moments there were like, and suddenly Ellesmera loses its shine. I'm an elf, and I have the desires of an elf, but I'm also able to think for myself and see the downside of things."

"Yet, you choose to associate with a tyrant and a murderer. Doesn't say much of your way of thinking."

"A tyrant who allows people to publicly criticise him? A tyrant who condemns corruption? A tyrant who has kept this land in peace for a century? Your mother is more of tyrant than Galbatorix."

Arya's composure fell for a moment and Frilnim could see the rage on her face. If she had the chance, he was sure, she would tear him apart in an instant.

"And as for murderer, don't pretend that your hands aren't clear of blood," Frilnim said, once he had convinced himself of his safety. "I know you've killed, just like he. Do you think those urgals you killed don't have people who would mourn them? Do you think, that because you believe your cause is so righteous, that it makes the killings you do justified? Are you so black and white in your views that you can't see the suffering caused by your actions?"

"What about the suffering caused by Galbatorix?"

"Unlike you, he hasn't used his sword in combat for years. If the Varden would listen to his messengers, they would know that he only wants peace. But you people are so bent on destroying the current system that you won't listen. The Varden, by its own actions against Galbatorix, has caused more suffering."

"Your skills in talking haven't deserted you."

"You know as well as anyone, Arya, that my mouth and my words are my only talents."

"Then tell me, does the skin on your scars ever tighten when you speak sweet words to your precious king? And do you still sing, or do you think it's disproportioned to have a beautiful voice coming out of such an ugly mouth?" There was an almost maniacal gleam in Arya's eyes as she spoke those words.

"Even this mouth can produce better things than your unscarred lips."

"Would you want to do the same to me as I did to you?" Arya smirked. "Or do you still cower at the sight of blood?"

"What good would it do?" Frilnim asked, averting his eyes. "Taking revenge on you wouldn't take away what you and the others did to me. I stopped wishing for vengeance year ago and moved on. I have a new life now, a good one, and a new family."

"Family?" Arya laughed. "You're mad king and his slave dragon?"

"Oh, if Shruikan knew you called him a slave, he'd kill you for sure. I might be tempted to tell him you said that."

"And would that please you? The knowledge of my imminent death?" Arya glared at Frilnim beneath her furrowed brow.

"Would it surprise you, if I said no?" Frilnim's face softened. "It doesn't matter to me whether you live or die."

"Then let me make you this one promise." Arya raised her head. "If I live through this, I will kill you."

Frilnim shrugged. "Then I'll die, knowing your true character. Knowing that beneath your supposed beauty, wisdom and talent, you're as dark as any pit you could ever toss me in. I've seen the depths, Arya, and I've climbed out. But I don't think you've faced yours yet."

"Are you blind, or simply mad? Do you see the state I'm in? Do you know what I lost because of my failed mission."

"Yes, I heard about it." Frilnim nodded. "I even mourned for Faolin's death. You weren't the only one with ties to him. But believe me, the loss of lover is far from the bottom of the depths. When you reach it, you will feel the emotions run out of you, your body burn with pain, the complete isolation. You would wish you could go mad, but your mind won't leave you. At that moment, you either reach for the light, if there is any, or lie down and let the dark take you."

"And I suppose Galbatorix was your light?"

"Yes. He's shown to me with his actions that he would not leave me, no matter the situation. He's never raised his voice or hand at me, even when we've argued. I'm sure you think he could have no light in him, but then again, you've never met him."

"You are mad." Arya shook her head. "You're feelings are unnatural, no sane elf could look at things like you do."

"What I feel is my business. And whether or not I'm sane doesn't matter, at least I'm happy."

"Fool," Arya muttered.

"It would be more foolish to seek out death and pain rather than love and peace." Frilnim laid his hand on the surface of the door behind him.

"If you want to leave, do it," Arya said. "We both know that's what your thinking."

"I would, but I feel as if I should say something more."

"There's no more need for words between us. I think we've both made ourselves clear."

Frilnim sighed. "Some issues aren't meant to be resolved then. Goodbye."

"Goodbye. Hopefully we'll never meet again."

Frilnim knocked on the door, his eyes never straying from Arya's proud face. The door opened and Frilnim backed out of the cell. He watched as the guard locked the door and then turned slowly to the guards.

"Sir?" The younger of the royal guards gently placed his hand of Frilnim's shoulder.

Frilnim blinked. "It's alright. Though, I would like to tell Durza to arrange a bath for her. Everything aside, she is a princess."

Durza's guards exchanged quizzical looks.

Frilnim smiled at them. "I can't command Durza to do anything, but I wish he would observe some etiquette. Now, where's my room? I think I'm in the need for some rest."


	5. Painfully Close

AUTHOR'S NOTE: We're approaching the end, as I do believe this is the second to last chapter. I'm just going to be glad to be rid of this.

To reply to what Kitsuneko said about the names: You can totally blame me for the crappyness of Frilnim, Valsonin, Silfranni, Ananrsir and Hodnusa. I didn't use a name generator, but I did pretty much mess around with my keyboard. The rest of the names are cannon names, so blame CP for those.

And to answer xLzM's question, I thought that Durza was alive when Eragon and Murtagh first met. Then again, I could be confused. Point is, the core of the fic itself takes place after Eldest, so Durza is dead "in the present". As I (sort of) implied in the A.N. of the first chapter, I'm not exactly giving this fic much of my time and consideration (I just sort of want to spill it out of my head and move on).

CHAPTER 5- PAINFULLY CLOSE

Frilnim had left Shruikan's cavern, his spirit raised from its previous slump. He made his towards his own apartment, located a short walk away from the throne room.

He still concerned about Galbatorix's way of fretting over the various affairs of state. But, as Shruikan had, said these things came and went. Problems would be resolved and something would come along to convince the king to lessen the security measures in the castle and calm down.

While walking down a corridor, with windows facing the east on the left wall and various rooms on the right, Frilnim saw general Valsonin coming towards him, flanked by two of his personal soldiers.

The general was an imposing person in his own right, with broad shoulders and a heavily lined face and a short, dark brown beard. His family was one of the few noble family to have survived through the initial chaos of Galbatorix's enthronement, and Frilnim knew that the family was very proud of making it this far. But it was not an influential family alone that had made Valsonin the respected general he now was. The man was a talented magic user and fighter in his own right, and he had a way with people.

Frilnim smiled at the general. "Hello, Valsonin."

"Lord Frilnim." Valsonin nodded his head. "Could I bother you for a moment?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm a little tired right now. I was just heading for my room." Frilnim moved to walk past Valsonin, but one of his men blocked his way. "Uh, excuse me?"

"My Lord, I really must insist. This is very important," Valsonin said.

Frilnim glowered at the soldier on his path and then looked at Valsonin. "I'm sure it can wait. I wish to retire to my room."

"I almost hoped that you would make this easy, but have it your way."

At that moment, Valsonin's soldiers grabbed a hold of Frilnim's arms, pinning them to his sides, while one of them covered the elf's mouth with his hand. Frilnim let out a muffled scream beneath the hand and struggled to get loose from the soldier's grip. Valsonin opened a nearby door and walked in, followed by the men and Frilnim.

Frilnim's eyes were wide with shock as the soldiers pushed him against a wall. It was nothing short of suicide to touch him, everyone in the castle knew that. Had this happened outside of the castle, Valsonin and his men would have been torn to pieces by Galbatorix's ra'zac that always watched over the elf from the shadows. But there were no ra'zac inside the castle acting as his bodyguards and he was no match to three grown men on his own.

Frilnim, working on instinct, pulled his legs up and kicked one of the soldiers in the chest, sending the man stumbling backwards a few steps. With his left arm free, Frilnim took hold of the second soldier's collar and was about to kick him as well, until the man twisted his right arm behind his back.

Frilnim cried out as a hot pain shot through his arm. The soldier let go of the arm and Frilnim pulled it against his chest, shielding it with his left arm. Soon the soldiers had him pinned back against the wall.

Valsonin sauntered up to the elf and smiled. "Feisty, wasn't expecting that. But it'll do you no good to fight in the end."

"You're the one who's been threatening the others." Frilnim shifted in the men's grip, his eyes tearing up from the pain in his arm.

"Took you long enough to realise," Valsonin said. "Maybe, if the Twins had not been so quick to get themselves killed, I wouldn't have to resort to these crude methods. After all, I'm sure they could have influence even your mind."

For a moment Frilnim went limp with realisation, then he raised his lips and bared his teeth. "You cur! You had them do something to Murtagh!"

"I'd rather be a cur than the king's little lapdog." Valsonin's face was inches away from Frilnim. "I'm oddly disappointed that no one has even suspected magic in all this time. If my own magic was capable of controlling minds like the Twins' magic was, I'd be more than willing to warp all the minds I need to reach my goal."

"How could the Twins magic still be controlling Murtagh, they died weeks ago?"

"A happy surprise, really." The general smiled. "Looks as if mind magic doesn't fade as soon as other kinds. The Twins obviously went in very deep inside young Murtagh. I'm sure he'll come out of it eventually, but by then it will be too late and in any case he never knew it was I who had the Twins do it."

"You'll never be named head advisor. Galbatorix will gut you himself for what you'll do to me," Frilnim hissed.

"The king will never know I did it. I'll make it look as if the Varden had penetrated the castle and, in a frantic need to cause the king damage, had killed you. The king will be heartbroken, I come in and comfort him and in the absence of anyone else he will make me his head advisor."

"He won't fall for it. You're an idiot to think he couldn't see the truth on your ugly, bloated, triumphant face!"

Valsonin's hand turned to fist and delivered a sharp blow to Frilnim's stomach. "Lapdogs shouldn't bark at curs. I'm going to enjoy this. In fact, maybe I shouldn't kill you right away. I have always wondered what the king finds so appealing in you. Why should he have all the fun?"

Frilnim closed his eyes, his mind was screaming for Galbatorix to come and save him. "No, no, no, no…"

"Oh, yes," Valsonin said in a low voice and leaned against the elf.

Through the blinding pain in his arm and the fear in his mind, something suddenly rushed across Frilnim. Maybe it was a primal impulse calling for survival, maybe it was the strands of rampant magic dwelling within him, Frilnim did not know for sure, but that something washed over him like a wave and spread to every corner of the room and beyond.

Valsonin stepped back, sensing that something had happened. "What did you do, elf?"

Frilnim's body shook with exhaustion. "I don't know."

The general unsheathed a dagger and held it to Frilnim's face. "Tell me what you did, or I will take you while you bleed to death!"

But Frilnim's voice had left him. The sickening sensation of falling that he had last felt a century ago was taking over him.

Then, before he could fall into the beckoning darkness, the door of the room was ripped from its hinges by a powerful spell. In the doorway, his shoulders hunched with feral anger, stood Galbatorix.

Valsonin whirled around to face the king. He had no chance to say anything before Galbatorix next spell struck him in the chest and the general crumpled into a heap, dead.

The soldiers released Frilnim and allowed him to slide to the floor. Galbatorix glared at the two men and roared another lethal spell at them. He then leapt over the bodies, his robes and cape billowing around him and stooped down next to Frilnim.

"Frilnim! Frilnim, please, say something!" Galbatorix lifted the elf into his lap and looked down at him.

"Gal…" Frilnim whispered, the pain was still calling for him to faint.

There was a terrible despair in Galbatorix's eyes. "It's alright, Frilnim. Everything's alright. I'm here now."

"Good." With a tiny sigh, Frilnim gave over to the darkness


	6. As Things Are

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here we are, the last chapter! It's done! No more will this fic distract me from more pressing matters. Huzzah!

Another flashback in this chapter (boy, this fic's just one long flashback). I was first going to just go on with the core story, but decided to add in the flashback, to show more of Galbatorix's character.

CHAPTER 6- AS THINGS ARE

(Woods outside Uru-Baen, about 70 years ago)

Frilnim walked among the tree trunks, occasionally running his hands on the bark of the oaks and pines that surrounded him. It had been so long since he last had a chance to wander in a forest without the sound of large insect wings buzzing somewhere in the distance. Around him was life and nature in all its undisturbed glory, there were few things more pleasing to am elf's senses.

Yet, even in his elation, something troubled Frilnim. This visit to the forest had come suddenly, without prior arrangement. It was not until now, after the initial joy of a pleasant surprise had subsided, that the elf started to wonder why Galbatorix had decided to come here.

Turning around, Frilnim searched for the king, he was not in sight. Retracing his path, the elf came to a small clearing where Shruikan had flown Galbatorix and him before flying off to hunt for deer or boar.

Galbatorix was sitting on a boulder near the centre of the clearing. Hunched forward, staring thoughtfully at a flower growing in front of him, the king did not move when Frilnim walked next to him.

"Well," Frilnim said. "You're certainly jumping for joy to be out of the city. I was sort of hoping I wouldn't be the only one enjoying this."

"Sorry about that."

Frilnim tilted his head, Glabatorix's rarely apologised this fast. He sat down beside the rider turned ruler.

"Something you'd want to talk about?"

Galbatorix raised his head, seemingly forgetting where was for a moment. He searched for words, eyes fixed on some invisible point ahead. A soft breeze blew over the clearing, moving through his untrimmed hair. Long hair, it would appear, was coming back to high society.

Finally, in a voice barely audible, Galbatorix spoke, "I heard news from home."

"Home" was the little town where Galbatorix had been born. Since the battle with the dragon rider's Galbatorix had taken Frilnim there only once, to show him the places he had spent the early years of his life, and to meet what was left of his family.

Yes, Galbatorix too had once been a child and had a family like anyone else. Frilnim recalled that visit vividly. The welcoming warmth, the smiles of the people who knew the rebellious rider, the humble surroundings and the delicious celebratory meal.

Galbatorix's father had died before the war, and his mother was very old. Galbatorix had offered to bring her and the rest of his family, to Uru-Bean and give them all the aid they requires. But the aged woman, face aglow with pride of her son, had declined and said that she wished to die in her home. She did die, soon after Galbatorix and Frilnim had left the town. Now, all the Galbatorix had, in the way of biological family, was his brother.

"He's dead, Frilnim." Galbatorix shut his eyes.

That explained it, why Galbatorix had wanted to leave the castle. How would he look, the mighty king and defeater of the dragon riders, if he were to openly mourn the death of some "peasant"? To the outside world, Galbatorix could not display the loving heart that Frilnim knew was beating inside him. A ruler, a true leader, had very little room for emotions. Emotions were things that others could use against you and deem you weak.

Slowly Frilnim moved closer and wrapped his arms around Galbatorix.

Galbatorix responded by embracing the elf, pulling him to his chest. It was only during these moments, away from prying eyes, that Galbatorix would let the walls built by his position fall down and reveal the person Frilnim valued more than anything in the world.

Finally the sobs came, muffled by the fact that Galbatorix had buried his face into Frilnim's hair.

Before leaving Du Weldenvarden, Frilnim had not encountered death. Even now, after decades spent around humans, it bewildered him and he did not always know how to react to it. Any words of comfort or condolence felt empty, all he could do was be there and see what would happen.

"It was a cart, it fell on him," Galbatorix said, when his sobs subsided.

Frilnim nodded.

"They say it was fast, he didn't suffer much. I can't believe it, everyone's gone, Frilnim, I have no family left."

"Didn't he have a wife and children?"

Galbatorix sniffed. "Yes. I had the chamberlain send them money. I don't want them to have to worry about food or clothes now."

Hearing Galbatorix's heart beating right beside his head, pressed against the man's chest as it was, Frilnim was acutely aware of the way of things. Few people knew of the existence of the king's family, and even fewer knew their location and identity. In the world of politics and power, the king's rivals would not hesitate to threaten his family. Loved ones were a liability, a weakness that others could exploit as easily as apparently unwarranted emotions. That is why Galbatorix had minimal contact with his remaining family.

Now, his family dead and thus safe from harm, Frilnim had become Galbatorix's main weakness. From the day they had become friends, Galbatorix had taken every measure possible to protect the elf, while being discreet about the true nature of their relationship. Around most people, the king and his fool would only exchange affectionate looks with each other, anything else would have called too much attention to the two of them.

Frilnim straightened his posture and ran his hand along Galbatorix's moist cheek. "It takes courage to cry, never forget that."

Galbatorix's eyes, spurred with tears, looked intently at his friend. "I've lost so much."

"I know, too much," Frilnim's voice was soft and steady, it was his turn to be strong. "You made it through this before. You made it, to the very top, despite all the odds. You have more strength and heart than anyone in this world, no matter how desperate you feel now."

At that moment Galbatorix was not the king, the conqueror, the rebel dragon rider. He was the young man, alone and injured in some faraway forest, his dragon dead at his feet. Full of fear and vulnerability. And Frilnim was not the scarred and weak jester. He was the immortal elf, overflowing with power and wisdom.

The wind spun gently around them, making a barrier between their most hidden and tender secret and the brutal world outside.

(Present)

Letting out a languid breath, Frilnim opened his eyes. He looked up at an elaborate canopy. This was not his room. The elf carefully lifted his head, seeing that he was laying on a large bed, wrapped in silken purple covers and surrounded with soft pillows propped around his body.

"My Lord, you've awakened," the gruff, though friendly, voice of the castle's latest chamberlain said.

Frilnim turned to see the elderly man standing next to the bed. The room he was in was spacious and stately, decorated in purple, gold and white. Now he knew where he was, Galbatorix's bedroom.

"What am I doing here?" Frilnim winched slightly at the sudden feeling of pain in his arm, he glanced down to see his right arm bound in white linen and enclosed in a sling.

"His Majesty did not want to leave you with the healers after the unpleasant incident. He brought you here personally. You've been asleep for nearly a full day."

"I see." Frilnim sat up, a thought coming to his mind. "Murtagh! Valsonin had the Twins do something to his mind…"

"My Lord?" The chamberlain raised his eyebrow.

"He told me that when he attacked me. He wanted to make sure that Murtagh wouldn't be a competitor for the position of head advisor, so he made the Twins alter his mind somehow."

"If this is true, I shall inform the royal magic-users immediately. I am sure they can discern just what was done to Lord Murtagh."

"That's good. Where's Galbatorix?" There was a hint of disappointment in Frilnim's question, part of him had expected to find Galbatorix standing next to the bed.

"Ah, His Majesty, I believe, is out on the balcony. He was very shaken by the incident and your injury, though it is not particularly severe. Your arm should heal soon, with the help of the healers and the bruises you sustained have nearly disappeared."

"I know. I think I just fainted because of the pain." Frilnim looked sheepish. "I'm not exactly used to that sort of thing."

"No need to be ashamed, My Lord. Being a stranger to pain could well be thought of as a good thing."

"I guess you could look at it like that. By the way, how did Galbatorix find me so fast?"

The chamberlain mused the matter briefly. "From what His Majesty told me, he felt you're sudden distress. I also heard that Master Shruikan had felt it as well. Perhaps you sent out a telepathic message to them?"

"I've never done that, don't think I'm able to. But maybe that's what I did. No wonder I haven't done it before, it took so much out of me."

"Well, My Lord, I for one am happy to see you on the mend." The chamberlain bowed. "Will you be needing anything?"

"Not right now, thank you."

"As you wish." With that the man walked out of the room.

Frilnim sat on the bed, weighting his options. He could stay where he was and wait for Galbatorix to come inside, or he could go to the balcony himself. He was sure that Galbatorix would need an assurance of his regaining health. And they were likely to have a conversation about the incident with Valsonin sooner or later, so there was no point in trying to delay it.

As he moved his legs, to ease their numbness, the covers slipped off the elf. It would seem that they had made the choice for him. Frilnim caressed the sheets, recalling the earlier times he had spent on the bed, and gingerly rose to his feet.

The elf's body was stiff, numb and still had remnants of weakness in it, but at least there was no pain. Frilnim wondered whether Galbatorix had tried to heal him himself, or waited until the healers could assess the damage.

Frilnim stepped onto the balcony, stopping briefly to take in view of Galbatorix's silhouette against the setting sun. It was almost like a painting, were it not for the folds of the king's cape waving gently in the wind.

As the elf moved to stand next to him, Galbatorix said in a cool voice, "I'm glad you came out of the ordeal fine."

Frilnim looked down at his slung arm and chuckled, "I'd say I survived relatively unscathed."

Galbatorix sighed.

For some time the two looked at the darkening city and the surrounding countryside in silence. Frilnim wracked his brain for something to say, anything to relieve the tension and return things to normal.

However, it was Galbatorix who spoke first, "when did I become like this?"

"Like what?"

"So grim." Galbatorix turned to face Frilnim. "I can remember how I used to be a lot more… well, fun. But I can't remember becoming overly serious and losing my love of life."

"I can't say that I could pinpoint a certain moment when that happened. You just have a lot on your mind, it can't be easy to relax when you a country to run," Frilnim said.

"I don't want to be this way." Galbatorix shook his head. "I want to be the way I used to be. I want to tour the country, go flying with Shruikan and roam the woods with you. I want to be happy!"

"That's something I would love to see, you being happy."

"You know me, Frilnim, I never give up on anything. But this time I want to surrender and give life free range, even for a moment. Damn the country, damn the Varden, damn politics and damn anyone who tries to take my friends away from me!"

Frilnim leaned closer to Galbatorix, a lopsided smile on his face. "That's sounds like the old you. And I'm in no hurry to be taken away from you. After all, a king can't make it without his fool. So get ready for a long live of really living."

Galbatorix wrapped his arm around Frilnim's shoulder and steered him inside the castle. "I want to start it right now. Maybe we could see that travelling theatre together…"


End file.
